


of all your truths (all my sirens)

by Ja_Acabou_Jessica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But like a little bit of plot, M/M, Murder Husbands, PWP without Porn, but i dont have time to change everything im sorr, but like its sweet sick what were u expecting, didnt beta im sorry, hmmm blasphemy, i know its full of mistakes, i love themmmm, inspired by a dream, it is not nearly as pornographic as i sold it to be, look this is not pretty okay this is very sick, sorry grandma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ja_Acabou_Jessica/pseuds/Ja_Acabou_Jessica
Summary: He hears sirens in the distance, but they are muted by cruel eyes that eat him alive.





	of all your truths (all my sirens)

Will looks around the big room like a predator, something in his mind that sounds scarelly similar to Jack’s voice reminds him to lower his guard, to pretend to be just a tiny bit more affected by the untouched drink in his hands. People pass him by, staring at the art in the walls or chatting to their friends and enemies in polite, pretentious tones.  
He know this is where he is more likely to find him, from his silent little conner, not too far to go unnoticed but far enough that it seems like he is waiting for someone, and he is.

It doesn’t take long, these things normally don’t. 

He is wearing his best suit and styled his hair just right and he knows every single person in this room wants to take him home, but he waits.  
His killer approaches him from the back, a gentle hand resting on his right arm and it would be just a harmless greeting if he didn’t know better, if he didn’t recognize the way the grip tightens just a little before letting go, he smiles before even turning around.  
When they lock eyes, Will is unsure.  
He know for sure this man is the killer he came all the way to catch, don’t get him wrong. He just doesn’t know if it will be exactly this way around.  
The man smiles like a gentlemen and holds his hand up, in a invitation.  
“Hannibal Lecter.”

Will knows everything about him is a lie, from his eyes to his shadow and his tone of voice, but somehow he knows this is his real name.  
The first truth he ever gets from Hannibal Lecter.  
He takes his hand and shakes just a second too long.

“Will Graham.”  
He hears sirens in the distance, but they are muted by cruel eyes that eat him alive.

-

So, Will Graham goes home with the killer.  
Everything about the place it's big and it’s cold and Hannibal takes him to a room that is not his.  
And Will hears Jack yelling frantically in his mind but Hannibal asks if he wants a cup of tea and he is untying his tie and Will nods as he sits on the bed.  
It’s cold.  
He takes the tea and it’s hot and he falls asleep and he doesn’t hear yelling anymore, not even once.

 

When he wakes up, still in every single piece of clothing he wore the night before, the bedroom is empty and he knows the door is locked before even trying it. Maybe it isn’t, but Will doesn’t care because he knows he wouldn’t leave even if it was wide open. There is a note on his bedside table and it just says “Kitchen” so he gathers every bit of courage and takes the tiny steps into the arms of a hungry lion and tries to pretend the thought is not getting him a little dizzy.  
Hannibal is, as promised, in the kitchen. His back is turned to Will but he is still wearing a fancy shirt that shows off his back muscles and his prey chuckles as he knows Lecter is pulling out a show just for him, as if he needed to.  
He wants to yell something in the lines of “I know who you are!” or “They are gonna get you!” Or even “Please, Hannibal, run.” But he smiles, says his good mornings, and sits on a chair to watch him cook.

He says something about food and something about people and Will gets it all mixed up because he knows nothing in his kitchen is safe but when will he ever get safe again and he eats breakfast and thinks there are worst ways of being captured. 

He doesn’t say it but, by the look in his eyes, Hannibal understands him just fine.

“Do you drug your tea often?” 

He gets a laugh in response and it’s the second truth he ever gets from Hannibal Lecter.

-  
The days mostly pass by in a blur and Will is sure he shouldn’t feel like he is in vacation but he can’t seem to remember who told him that.  
The first days were filled with fear and anticipation of what exactly Hannibal intended to do with him and what kind of spices would color his skin nice as his meat decorated the table but by the time he stares at the ceiling in Will’s -he decided it was his, after all- bedroom he decides it looks kind of like the ceilings in old churches and he knows Hannibal doesn’t have a plan on what to do to him.  
He plays the old piano in the living room sometimes, songs filled with pain and regret and Will watches him from the couch, absorbed in the heat that burns him from the inside and he wonders just why has nobody come to rescue him.  
He doesn’t trust himself to think about what he would do if anybody came.

Sometimes, Hannibal lets him cook dinner and he can’t seem to let go of the idea that they are just playing house at this point, and that Hannibal probably doesn’t even realise it.  
He gives his killer a bowl of soup and a kiss on the nose and he thinks to himself that this is fine. It’s more than fine.

-  
It finally happens on a quiet night like they usually have.  
Will has always seem the way Hannibal changes the flowers on the table when they eventually die, and he doesn’t think anything of it except for the times when he catches his eyes and he just knows something about them feels wrong.  
So, this is why he asks.  
He asks because he doesn’t have to count the truths anymore and because Hannibal is full of them.  
And he asks because he know he is the only person in the whole world who can ask him, and he likes that.

“Hannibal.” He stands up, and caresses the delicate petals.  
They are white lilies and he remembers something about what they mean but he feels so disconnected to any memory from his life outside of this home this days that it feels too fragile to grasp.  
Hannibal takes a deep breath and Will doesn’t even have to say the words before the man stands up too, and places himself behind Will.  
This time, it doesn’t feel like he is sneaking up from behind.  
He is hiding.

“My sister.” He says, and, for what feels like an eternity later, he continues. “Mischa.”  
Will makes a noise on the back of his throat but doesn’t trust himself to turn around and face him. 

“She used to arrange the most beautiful bouquets from the flowers on our garden.” He breathes on Will’s neck and it’s so far from anything else in the world, he feels like his whole existence is a dream. “She used to give them to me when she was younger.”  
Will doesn’t have to ask if she grew out of it.  
He remembers the ghost of a picture on his father’s old desk of a woman holding a child and he thinks to himself this is home.  
They are home, after all.  
So he turns.  
And meets Hannibal’s gaze.  
And holds it.  
And allows him to see in his eyes that Will knows.

This is the first truth he ever gives back, from all he has taken. 

He grabs Hannibal’s shirt and and pulls him as he half-lays on the kitchen table and this is not nearly as smooth as it should be but he figures he doesn’t care because Hannibal is kissing him or, maybe is the other way around but maybe it’s even the middle ground and he thinks about sirens and what they represent but he doesn’t care.  
Hannibal holds his head and his fingers write “bedroom” on his hair and he follows because he knows he will always follow.

He lays on his killer’s bed but he is not only a killer he is everything and all and he remembers all that girls talking about Charles Mason and he wonders if this is all craziness but Hannibal has a hand on the inside of his shirt and he can only think “finally.”  
He says it in breathy little laughs and he pushes his lover so that he can be on top of him as he stares into his eyes and sees all the answers and all the truths to questions he is too scared to ask.

And later that night, after what feels like a billion years, he hears what could only be sirens as Hannibal presses into him for the first time and he feels like Virgin Mary all over again as God himself whispers praise in his ears and fucks him hard and he knows that the only thing that can come out of this is destruction and death but he grinds down on his cock and forgets about every little detail.  
Because Hannibal is God and he is the Devil and he is the monster from the old tales they told him as a child and he is his fears and his confidence and when he takes he really takes.

“Run away with me.” Will whispers to him after he is filled up with his love and his cum and his soul and, maybe it was not what he intended to say but he can hear “I love you” under his words and Hannibal nods.

“I love you too.” The kiss he gets answers as it caresses his lips “Forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Guys i hope u liked it lol gimme those sweet kudos


End file.
